The Guitar Man
by Beautiful Shiny People
Summary: Dean Winchester fell fast and hard for a man who sang The Beatles in the subway.   Destiel


"_Hey Jude, make it bad. Take a sad song, and make it better..._" Dean paused in the crowd of subway goers, hearing a few curse under their breath as they walked around him. He turned, looking around the terminal for the source of the singing. The voice was low, verging on rough and monotone, but not unpleasant. "_Remember to let her into your heart, and you can start to make it better..."_

He turned, walking against the crowd in order to follow the singing. He could hear a guitar accompanying the singing, and the mixture pleasantly rubbed against his eardrums. Dean shoved past people walking toward the subway, and it crossed his mind that he was going to be late for work, but he needed to find out where that music was coming from.

"_Hey Jude, don't be afraid. You were made to go out and get her...the minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better..._" He rounded a corner, finally coming upon the source of the music.

A man sat on a short stool, an acoustic guitar held almost lovingly in his hands. His eyes were closed as he sang out to the moving crowd; before his tapping feet, there was an open guitar case filled with a few scarce dollars. Dean let out a small breath, watching the man strum his guitar with the familiar cords, singing the lyrics that held so many memories of his mother dancing in the kitchen.

The guitar player's eyes fluttered open, and from across the crowd, blue eyes met green. A small smile perked the edges of the man's mouth, and it seemed as if he was now singing to Dean. "_Hey Jude, don't let me down! You have found her, now go and get her. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better._" He strummed his guitar, the barely-there smile seeming to light up his entire face.

The phone in Dean's pocket began to buzz, alerting him that he was now officially late for work. A small groan worked its way up his throat; he rifled through the pocket of his pants to find his wallet. He approached the guitar player, a charming smile on his mouth. A twenty fluttered into the beaten-up looking case, and when Dean looked up, blue eyes were locked with his. The man gave a small nod in his direction, still singing toward the unresponsive crowd.

Dean turned, his steps lighter as the last few cords of _Hey Jude_ followed him. "_Na na na na, na na, na na Hey Jude!_"

()()

"_Green eyes, yeah the spotlight shines upon you...and how could anybody deny you?_" Once more he found himself staring across a crowd of subway goers, watching the guitar man. It had been a week since the last time he had seen him, and since their first 'meeting', Dean hadn't been able to get the strange street performer out of his head.

The man was in the same spot as before; his case was open, and once more only a few people stopped to enjoy his performance. Spare change was thrown among paper money, and Dean felt himself reaching for his wallet.

"_I came here with a load, and if feels so much lighter now that I've met you. And honey you should know that I could never go on with out you. Green eyes..._" The song was something Dean had never heard before, but with his choice in music, it wasn't that surprising.

The man's fingers gracefully flew over the guitar strings, and as Dean stood there, it seemed as if the man was seeking someone through the crowd. "_Green eyes...green eyes...Honey you are a rock, upon which I stand..._" The last few notes warbled from the guitar; the man's eyes finally met Dean's producing a small smile.

Dean blinked, watching as the man began to pick up his things. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fingering the bills before taking a breath and walking towards the man. "Hey." Blue eyes flickered up to meet his. A wad of cash was shoved into the guitar player's face, causing a small noise of surprise from the man.

Slender fingers wrapped around the money, and a confused expression covered the performer's face. "What...what are these for?" The voice that came out of the smaller male was surprisingly rough. Dean swallowed embarrassment, looking away from those blue eyes to watch people passing.

"Well, it looks like you can use the cash..." The man stood, looking up through dark eyelashes. He held the money in his hands before trying to shove it back to Dean.

"No, but thank you." The taller male scoffed.

"Take it, seriously, you deserve it." Blue eyes blinked owlishly, and a small smile graced the man's mouth. Dean could see a pleased flush lightly dusting pale skin; he cleared his throat, feeling the tips of his ears heating.

"You enjoyed it?" His phone began to buzz in his pocket, causing Dean to groan as he dug it out. The man watched with wide eyes as he cursed colourfully.

"Uh, I gotta go. See you around." Dean began to turn, but paused, looking over his shoulder to see the blue-eyed man just standing in the middle of the crowd, looking a little lost. "Hey," The man jumped, meeting his eyes silently. "What's your name?"

The man blinked, hands fiddling with the cracked leather guitar case. "I am Castiel..."

Dean nodded once, shooting Castiel a crooked smile. "Cool, I'm Dean." He waved a hand over his shoulder. "See you around, Cas."

()()

"_In this world, there's nothing I would rather do. I've discovered I'm in love with you, oh oh...Because I'm happy just to dance with you._" There was actually a crowd today, and Castiel's guitar case seemed to be containing a good amount of money. They clapped after his song was done, some throwing more cash onto the steadily growing pile before walking off.

Dean stood apart from the crowd, hands in the pockets of his jeans. Castiel was putting his things away, lovingly setting his scratched guitar into the case with care. He jumped with he turned to gather his stool, wide blue eyes staring up at Dean. Dark lashes fluttered, and Dean found himself smiling slightly. "Hello Dean." Castiel slipped the strap of his case over his skinny shoulder; he barely bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting for the other to speak.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other. "Uh, yeah...ya know, I was wondering if...maybe you'd like to get a coffee or something?"

Castiel cocked his head, glancing from Dean to the subway. "...that would be...acceptable."

Dean made a face, motioning for the man to follow him as he began to walk away. "Dude, you speak strangely." Castiel fell into step beside him. Blue eyes glanced at him, and a small pout of confusion crossing Castiel's face.

"I don't understand. My vocabulary is just fine." Dean rolled his eyes.

()()

"So...how'd you begin singing in the subway?" They sat across from one another, coffee and muffins spread over the table. Castiel removed the top of his muffin and began to eat the bottom, seeming to think of an answer. Dean stirred in his sugar, watching the minute expressions flitting across his companion's face.

The other man shrugged a shoulder, taking a small sip of his coffee. "Singing was a hobby of mine since I was little. My father signed me up for piano lessons, and later I taught myself the guitar." Slender fingers wrapped around the foam coffee cup; Castiel's eyes grew distant as he stared into the black brew. "I was never comfortable singing in front of others, but after my father passed away...I felt maybe I should just take a chance, no matter if my voice was horrible."

Silence followed the small story, the quiet only cut by the sounds of the cafe. Castiel began to eat the top of his muffin, talking around the baked good from behind his hand. "Where do you work? When ever I see you, you seem so distressed."

Dean itched the side of his nose, taking a large sip of his coffee. He made a face, looking out the window to the passing New York crowd. "I work for a huge pharmaceutical company as my boss' bitch. Ya know, I never really saw myself as a suited monkey working for 'the man'." He snorted, resting his chin on his hand. Castiel laughed softly, wiping his fingers on a napkin.

"I apologize, that doesn't seem pleasant."

Dean rolled a shoulder in a shrug. "Eh, it's okay. Pays the bills at least." He rose an eyebrow. "What about you, you can't _just_ be singing in the subway."

Castiel snorted, finishing off his coffee with a quick swig. "I'm also a bartender. Not very glamorous, but as you said it 'pays the bills'."

They fell into silence again, both studying the passersby.

()()

They're meeting for coffee after Castiel's 'shows' became something of a _thing_. Dean didn't wanna think that maybe this 'thing' was morphing into something else, something that made Sam snicker and congratulate him on actually finding someone who would put up with his shit.

It was hard though, when Castiel would smile at him like that when he walked up to him after a 'show'. Whether Dean was late for work, or if it was his day off, he would always make sure he had the time to see the strange guitar man.

"_Oh darling, please believe me. I'll never do you no harm...Believe me when I tell you, I'll never do you no harm._" He stood away from the crowd like he normally did, watching as Castiel stomped his foot in time with the strumming of his guitar. The small crowd that normally surrounded the guitarist was larger, composed of squealing teenage girls, which quite frankly, grated on Dean's nerves.

Castiel's eyes were closed, oblivious to the giggling and snapping of cell phone cameras. His expression was mournful as he sang McCartney's song; he seemed to be begging to someone, and though yeah, that was supposed to be the effect, it still made Dean's heart clench (in a very manly way, thank you very much).

He sighed, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against a graffiti covered wall. Green eyes closed as he listened to Castiel's voice waver through the subway terminal, ignoring the giggling of the teenage girls. Man, he had it bad; Dean Winchester had fallen hard and fast for a street performer who sang the Beatles.

()()

"What made you wanna sing the Beatles?" Castiel looked up from decapitating his muffin; one brow was raised as he lifted the bottom to his mouth. He swallowed quickly and snorted. Dean watched as a slightly embarrassed flush began to dust over the guitarist's pale cheeks. Castiel licked his lips and looked to the ceiling.

"...do you remember that children's show _The Powerpuff Girls_?"

Dean nearly choked on his coffee, swallowing before he could spit it all over the other male. "My ex's kid used to watch that." He laughed, watching as Castiel cracks his own tiny smile.

Blue eyes roll in their sockets before coming to rest on him. Castiel stirred in a packet of sugar, licking the stirring stick, momentarily distracting the other man. "I was staying with my older brother Gabriel, and one night he comes home with a bundle of DVDs. It turns out that it was the entire collection of Powerpuff Girls episodes that he had stolen from a friend of his. We ended up watching this one particular episode where the villains end up making a 'band' called the _Beat-alls_." He shook his head at the memory, laughing softly while fiddling with the top of his muffin. "Gabriel kept yelling at the girl monkey that was supposed to represent Yoko Ono to 'stop breaking up the band'." The guitarist hummed and placed his chin in his hand, his eyes suddenly turning to a downcast grey-blue.

Dean blinked at the sudden turn of emotions shining through the man's eyes. His fingers curled around the guitarist's slim fingers, squeezing slightly.

Blue eyes snapped up to meet his, and Dean's breath was caught in his throat along with his heart.

Calloused fingers squeezed back before they were snatched away; Castiel stood from the table, gathering his things and leaving the muffin top untouched on the table. "I...need to be leaving." Dean opened his mouth in order to ask the other man to stay, standing as he did so. His hand lifted to grab hold of the the light blue cardigan covering the guitarist's skinny arms, but the man maneuvered out of the way, offering no explanation as he walked out of the cafe.

()()

Weeks passed after the incident in the cafe with no sighting of Castiel in the subway. Dean kept an eye on the guitarist's spot in the terminal, noticing more than a few of admirer's also camping out near the spot. He felt a small tug of possessiveness well in his gut, but ignored it by sharpening his anger at the street performer who was currently absent from his life.

Sam claimed that he had scared the smaller man off, but after a few moments of teasing, the college student could see that the absence of this 'Castiel' was really effecting his older brother.

Dean sat on the ground, not caring about what kind germs and things were on the floor of the subway terminal; he leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose. The normal sounds of the New York subway passed in through one ear and out through the other; Dean found himself drifting, and at one point he felt the sharp sting of some spare change slapping against his chest.

He didn't notice as Castiel began to set up a small, well played keyboard.

People turned toward the man, their interest peaked as he began to stretch his fingers, eyes focused on a man sleeping near by.

Castiel took a breath, cracking his fingers before carefully setting them on the keys. He began playing the song Gabriel had written for him, one of the only original songs in his index of things to play. His eyes filled with tears as he remembered his older brother, dead at age 25 due to a crippling drug addiction. He watched as Dean's head snapped up, green eyes flashing over to where the keyboard sat.

Castiel took a breath, keeping his eyes locked with Dean's. "_On me dit un minois mieux que joli de même on me le dit. Et ce compliment me ravît..._" His fingers stroked the ivory keys, smoothly going over them with practiced ease. Dean was still, clearly hearing the emotions behind his voice.

_"Il paraît que j'ai un drôle d'accent, joli drôle et troublant. Qui vaut un regard caressant...J'ai l'air de voir la vie en rose, mais mon coeur rêve d'autre chose._" He played on, barely glancing away from the other man. "_Aimer, sincèrement de mon coeur tendre celui qui pourrait me comprendre...Et s'il le fallait me défendre._" Gabriel had written this song for him after he had moved from their parent's house into his brother's.

When presenting Castiel the song, his older brother had grinned and helped him with writing the music. _'You're the musically talented one, I can just write one hell of a poem!'_

The last few notes wavered before the crowd around him began to clap. Castiel felt his face heat in embarrassment, and quickly he ducked down to gather the loose-leaf papers he had spread around him. Some people walked up to him, asking for his phone number under the guise that they wished he could play at one of their parties; he didn't pay them any attention, praying that perhaps he hadn't made a fool of himself in front of Dean.

He dismissed the people clustered around him politely, watching their faces crumble as he prepared himself to leave; they dispersed, and he was faced with Dean.

The taller man had his hands casually stuffed in his pockets, and it seemed as if he was relaxed, but Castiel had always prided himself on his ability to read people; he could tell that Dean was nervous, a far cry from the cocky man he had met a few weeks prior. "Hey..."

Castiel gave Dean a small nod, shuffling his papers for lack of anything better to do. "Hello Dean."

The green-eyed man took a deep breath, straightening his posture. "Okay, so I know we've been like, going out for coffee...and I know that probably means nothing to you, but I really like you. I like your weird ass vocabulary, and your freaky staring. I like that you sing the Beatles, and...for some reason I think that you might've sang some songs for me..." He held his hands palm side up; Castiel's mouth twitched at the corners, letting Dean flounder in his awkwardness for a few moments. "Uh, so anyway, before I dig myself any further into a hole, I was wondering if you would like to go out sometime?"

They stared at each other for a moment, the noises of the subway rolling around them. Castiel dug through his pocket, producing a pen; he ripped off a small scrap of paper and wrote his cell phone number on to it.

He leaned up, giving a small peck to Dean's lips before handing off the scrap with a small smile. "Please phone me when you can speak properly."

The guitarist turned, his step lighter than it had been in five years.

() _Night after night, who treats you right? Baby it's the guitar man...()_

**_Songs:_**

**_Hey Jude-The Beatles_**

**_Greeneyes-Coldplay_**

**_I'm Happy to Dance with you-The Beatles_**

**_Oh! Darling!-The Beatles_**

**_Coeur de Parisienne-Rufus Wainwright _**

**_The Guitar Man-CAKE_**

_I suggest you listen to all these songs! _

_I imagine Castiel's voice to be Rufus Wainwright's...haha _


End file.
